Do You Love Her?
by MissNomer
Summary: Takes place soon after the Pilot episode. Brock and Reba have have words, but end up working through some tough emotions. This is my frist attempt at a Reba fanfiction, so please go easy on me. Reviewing is definitely recommended, by the way!
1. Do You Love Her?

A/N - This is my first Reba fanfiction, so I'm not sure how well written this is. I am very self-conscious about things I write and usually think it's not worth showing people so I would deeply appreciate any and all reviews. Please don't hesitate! (Constructive criticism is welcomed as well.) I hope everyone enjoys it!

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Wiping the sleep from her eyes and not bothering to suppress a yawn, Reba stepped into the dimly-lit kitchen. Still drowsy, she failed to notice her visitor sitting quietly at the table as she shuffled her way to the coffee pot, her bare-feet padding against the tiled floor.

"I already made you a cup, Reba." Brock informed her from the breakfast table.

The familiar voice made her jump and she let out an involuntary gasp as she turned to face him. Running one hand through her unkempt hair, she steadied herself on the island, trying to recompose herself. Closing her eyes the briefest of moments, she waited for her soon-to-be ex-husband to either explain himself or just leave. It was too early for this. _Way_ too early.

"I made toast too, if you're interested." He said sheepishly, trying to be helpful.

Her eyes flew open and for the first time he noticed they were raw from crying. "Brock...", she croaked out. Frowning, she shook her head and put a hand to her throat before clearing it and trying again. "Brock, I don't want your toast.", she retorted firmly.

"Well, in that case, I guess eggs are in order." He shrugged with a smile and got up from the table where he'd undoubtedly been waiting for a while. "How do you like them? Scrambled or sunny-side-up?", he asked casually, as though making breakfast for your ex were a weekly ritual performed by men everywhere.

Reba's mouth hung open as she stared at the man standing across the kitchen from her -- The man she'd been calling husband for some twenty odd years and the father of her children. It occured to her then as he was looking her over just exactly what she was wearing, or lack thereof, and tightened her grip on the blue terry-cloth robe. The same one he'd given her for their anniversary years ago. Ironically enough, the robe had lasted, the marriage had not.

"Brock, I know I should be surprised that you're in my kitchen at 6 o'clock --"

"Uh, six-thirty, actually.", he corrected her with a grin as she squinted up at the clock.

"Whatever.", she retorted, rolling her eyes. "Point is, I know I _should_ be surprised that you're here...but I'm not.", Reba began, arms folded. "Why is that, Brock? You're not supposed to come around here anymore."

"Hey look, I'm trying okay? Just work with me here a minute, will you?", he said a little more defensively than he'd have liked, immediately regretting it.

Reba's eyes widened. "You're _trying_? Well, it's a little late for _that_, isn't it?", she spat. "I've been trying for the past year and a half!", she exclaimed. "Where were _you_?"

Brock put up his arms in surrender and struggled for the next thing to say. "I know...I know, Reba. I could've...well, I could've been there. You were still working on us, and I'd just given up. I'm sorry. Really, I am."

She looked away momentarily, wondering what it was he really wanted to talk about. "Where's Barbra Jean anyway?", Reba asked casually. "Isn't she usually skulking around in my bushes by now?", she asked, standing tip-toe and peering out the window, half expecting to see the blonde staring back up at her.

As he walked back from the table, Brock placed the coffee mug in her hands. "Let's...not talk about B.J. right now, okay?"

She took a long swallow. "Well that's an awfully big elephant in the room to ignore there, Brock.", she replied, smiling over the top of the cup. "No pun intended either.", Reba said with a laugh.

"Yeah. Leave it to you to make jokes, Reba. That's great.", he replied, frustrated.

She grinned. "Can't help it, Brock. Momma taught us to laugh at the hardships in life.", she shrugged. "But I don't even really have to _try_ and laugh at Barbra Jean. She just...well, she just is what she is.", Reba said, smiling.

Brock scoffed and put his hands in the air, exasperated.

"Oh come on, Brock. Even you have to see the irony in all this!", Reba laughed.

"I don't see anything funny about this, Reba.", he replied, seriously.

"What?" She laughed again, making her way over to the table to sit down. "Tell me you remember how you first felt about her, Brock."

He frowned as he sat down across from her, his mind grasping at different memories from their past together.

Reba's mouth fell open again. "Oh come _on_, Brock! You thought she was the biggest, clumsiest goofball you'd ever met! Don't you remember? You were going to fire her the next day, but I...", her voice trailed off and her smile faded as realization dawned on her. "...But I stuck up for her...I thought she was sweet...I...well, I made you give her a second chance..." Staring down at her coffee, her lower lip slowly began to tremble.

Immediately Brock was on his feet, not really sure what to do. He could try to comfort her, or he could just stand by and be taken as insensitive. Either way he'd run the risk of her going after him with the nearest kitchen appliance. After a moment of debate, he carefully stepped forward and put a tentative hand on her shoulder. To his surprise though, it wasn't him that she pushed aside, but the coffee cup. Leaning over, she buried her face in her arms and began to cry. For a split second, Brock wish she'd just have hit him.

Out of habit or obligation, he wasn't sure which, he began massaging her shoulders. After a long while and just when he thought his legs were going to cave in, she came up for air and wiped her tears away with her sleeve. Brock stepped to the side and knelt down beside her. "Are you okay?", he asked quietly, his eyes sweeping over her tear streaked face.

She looked down, past Brock's feet. "Do you love her?", she whispered softly.

"What?", he asked blankly, caught off-guard.

She looked up at him. "Do you...love her?"


	2. Is This a Bad Time?

_Reba looked up at him. "Do you...love her?"_

Brock stared down at her, mouth open but forming words he knew he'd never actually say. She glanced down at the floor, then pushed back her chair and stood. "I see.", she said through pursed lips and walked over to the kitchen island, leaning against it.

Mentally kicking himself, he rose from the floor where he'd knelt, to face her. "Listen, Reba...", he started, still grasping for the right words to say.

She crossed her arms, shaking her head. "No, it's okay. I get it."

He frowned, not understanding what she was getting at.

"You love her.", she answered simply. "But tell me Brock," she began, locking eyes with his. "Did you figure that out before or _after_ you got her knocked up?"

"That's not fair, Reba and you know it!", he shot back, frustrated.

Reba's hands fell to her side. "Unfair?", she asked blankly. Brock closed his eyes, regretting ever bringing the term into the conversation. "You wanna talk to me about _unfair_, Brock?"

He let out a long sigh as Reba took her next breath. "_Unfair_ is going to couples' therapy every week by myself. _Unfair_ was having to sleep alone every night wondering where you were, worried _sick_. And _unfair_ was hearing my husband tell me he was throwing our twenty year marriage away. Twenty years, Brock! And for what? Some tramp you got pregnant?"

Brock looked up to the ceiling in resignation. "That's...that's not what I meant...", he said awkwardly, shaking his head. Outraged and red in the face, Reba took the empty coffee cup and threw it in the sink, the sound ringing in his ears and making him flinch.

He opened his eyes in the direction of door in time to see Barbra Jean's smiling face behind it, poised to knock.

"So help me I never want to see that woman again for the rest of my _life_!", she spat out, eyes shut tightly in exasperation. Brock waved his arms desperately in a silent attempt to get B.J. to stay where she was. She mouthed the word 'okay' and gave him two thumbs up.

"And I'll tell you something else too.", she started, pointing a finger at him. "I don't want her around here, Brock. You keep her away, you hear me?"

Before he could answer, his pocket started ringing. Horrified, he stole a glace at the door and saw Barbra Jean with her cell out. Numbly, he stood there, looking like a complete idiot while the tune played and played.

"Well aren't you gonna answer your phone?", Reba inquired thickly.

Caught between a rock and a hard place, Brock fumbled around in his pocket for the source of the noise. Reba raised an eyebrow at his unease, wondering when it was exactly that their relationship had taken its turn for the worse.

He cleared his throat and answered. "Tom...yeah hey, buddy. No, I can't play golf today. Yeah...I know...I know I promised, but you understand how it goes...", he mumbled, laughing nervously.

Reba rolled her eyes impatiently and turned away, catching sight of Barbra Jean through the door, staring down at her cell phone, completely perplexed. Reba's eyes widened. "_Her!_", she choked out, pointing at the window. Barbra Jean, not being able to hear what was being said inside, mistakenly took that as her cue to come in and opened the door, a huge smile lighting up her face.

"Oh Lord...", Brock muttered, tossing his cell phone onto the table and catching Reba around the middle just in time before she launched herself on the unsuspecting blonde. B.J.'s eyes widened but cocked her head to one side as Reba kicked at Brock, trying to get loose. "This a bad time?", she asked, completely oblivious of what she was just saved from.

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A/N - Many thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter, you really made my day! I know the second chapter is about half the size of the first, but I figured this was as good a place as any to stop. :) I promise to make a concerted effort to make the third a bit longer! R&R people!


	3. Got any OJ?

_"This a bad time?"_

At once, Reba stopped struggling and Brock loosened his hold on her. "A bad time?", she managed through panted breaths.

"Mhm, you look a little tense, Reba. Something wrong?", Barbra Jean asked, stepping closer. "You know I'd do anything to...oh hey, look.", she switched, making her way to the table past both Brock and Reba. "Toast.", she said brightly, picking up a piece and taking a bite.

"Oh this is great. Just _great_.", Brock muttered, running a hand through his hair and turning away from both of them.

"Mm..actually it's a little burnt.", Barbra Jean announced through a mouthful of toasted bread. "Maybe you need a new toaster, Reba."

The redhead made a face as she looked the woman over. "Barbra Jean, why are you here? It's not even 7:15 yet. And I thought creatures of the night _slept_ after the sun came up."

"Reba...", Brock warned, earning him a glare.

"No, Brock, it's fine.", Barbra Jean nodded testily. "I know makin' jokes is just Reba's way of dealing with things."

"Glad to see you're catching on.", she replied sarcastically.

"Oh yeah, I'm a fast learner, Reba, really.", Barbra Jean switched her tune and began chattily. "I mean when I first started working for Brock here, I knew next to _nothin'_ about dentistry.", she continued as she sat down at the table, waving the piece of toast as she talked. "I was a horrible assistant, and I was so _clusmy_. I don't even know why he hired me again after the way I tore up that office.", she ended grimly, seemingly off in another world.

Reba frowned in thought. "Wait...you actually went through with it and fired her?", she asked, turning to Brock.

"Yeaahh...about that...", he replied uncomfortably.

"Well see, he _fired_ me but then called back about a week later and gave me a big promotion.", she exhaled happily. "I got that one woman's job...oh gosh, what was her name again, Brock? Janet? Janine?"

"Julia...", he mumbled, getting more uncomfortable by the minute.

Reba's mouth dropped open. "Julia?", she asked in disbelief. "You gave Julia's job to _her_? Brock, she'd been working for you for 12 years!"

"Oh, well in his defense, Reba, the woman was gettin' a little _on_ in years if ya know what I mean.", she said, leaning forward as though sharing a private joke with her. "She was like, what...43, 44? I mean talk about _senile_."

Reba had been about to say something, but hearing this, she realized she'd been granted a new weapon for her arsenal and began laughing. It was obvious Barbra Jean had no clue about Brock's true age. Turning to him, she nudged him in the ribs lightly and chuckled. "You hear that, Brock? _Senile_ at 44."

Brock froze, not knowing what to do or what would come out of Reba's mouth next. "Boy, you know...I was all ready to blame this whole thing on your sheer stupidity, Brock but B.J. here has shown me the error of my ways.", she said, eyebrows raised and a smile on her face.

Barbra Jean perked up when she heard this. "Oh?"

"Yeah.", Reba answered, not taking her eyes off Brock. "Now I know it was just senility.", she spat.

"Oh _ha ha_, Reba. Very funny.", he scoffed.

They bantered back and forth, completely absorbed in getting the last word or coming up with the quickest comeback and not paying any attention to Barbra Jean, who had tried cutting in several times only to earn the occasional glare thrown in her direction. Sighing, the blonde sat down again at the table and began working on the plate of toast, piece by piece.

"You know what, Brock?", Reba asked, glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

"What?" He inquired smugly, knowing he had a particuarly cunning insult to hurl at her ready.

She sighed. "I suppose...all of this is my fault, really..."

"Oh yeah? Well _I _think you're...wait, what?", he blinked.

"Yes...", she said, eyes glued to the floor.

"Really...?", he asked suspiciously.

Reba locked her eyes with him. "Yes. If I had just married Terry when I had the chance instead of _you_, I'd never have had to deal with all _this_!", she yelled, slapping her forehead in mock exasperation.

Brock rolled his eyes, irritated. "You know what? I don't have to take this. C'mon B.J.", he said, looking behind Reba. "Barbra Jean?"

They both turned around and stared at the empty seat. A single piece of toast lay on the plate, but no Barbra Jean.

"Hey Reba, you guys got any orange juice?", asked a muffled voice from behind one of the fridge's open doors. They both turned to that direction.

"Excuse...me?", Reba asked, thoroughly annoyed.

Barbra Jean peered around the door. "All that toast made me thirsty, but I can't find the O.J."

Brock and Reba looked at each other, neither knowing how to respond to that.

"We don't _have_ any orange juice, Barbra Jean.", Reba replied through gritted teeth. "But if you'd like, I could always _squeeze_ a few fresh oranges for you. Heaven knows how I just _love_ catering to my husband's mistresses.", she said dryly.

"Oh Reba," Barbra Jean started while closing the fridge door. "You're just so nice.", she said, genuinely. "I'm so glad you've been able to move on so fast. I was afraid you'd feel differently about me when you found out about the baby."

Reba opened her mouth to say something sarcastic, but Brock cut her to the quick. "Oookay, Barbra Jean. I think it's time we go.", he suggested, leading her towards the door. "We've intruded on Reba enough this morning."

"Okay, sweetheart.", Barbra Jean replied concedingly as she followed him through the door. "Oh, but Reba.", she started, poking her head back through the door. "I really think you should think about getting another toaster."

Once again, Brock cut her to the quick by pulling B.J. away and closing the door.

Exhaling and shaking her head, Reba leaned against the island and began massaging her temples, feeling a headache coming on when she heard the door open quietly again.

"Reba...", Brock began as she turned towards him, a tired expression on her face. "We really do need to talk later..."

When she said nothing, he nodded silently and closed the door softly. Finally. She was alone again. Rolling her eyes, she exited the kitchen and walked upstairs to take what she hoped would be a long, very hot shower.

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A/N - Hope you guys liked the chapter! I made it a little longer than the first two because I anticipate to be very busy in the next few weeks and don't know when I'll be able update again. Please let me know what you think:)


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